When Worlds Collide
by Blue Whiplash
Summary: He's the Almighty Tallest Red. She's a Weapons Master. Who'da think it? Please be nice; even I have no idea where it's going.
1. Paths and Blades

Paths and Blades  
  
Hey, there, human larvae! This is a fic a decided to try when a two ton writer's block fell on Like Moths to the Flame. I own only Chaz, and possibly another character or two. All those creations that you've seen on TV? Yeah--I only WISH I owned those. Those belong to Jhonen Vasquez and possibly the blood-sucking leeches at Nick.  
  
  
  
"Are you seriously trying to tell me that you lost that report?"  
  
Red chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip. "Well, if I did that, I would be in a lot of trouble, now, I guess, so I'm going to go with no."  
  
Purple threw up his hands in frustration. "That report told us which Invaders were retiring this year! Now we have to send out a whole 'nother set of questionnaires to them, but first we have to figure out which ones were actually retiring in the first place, and there's still the party to plan--" he walked into to another room, still rambling.  
  
Red took the chance to slip out of the quarters to the relatively quiet atmosphere of the hallway.  
  
Sighing disconsolately, he listened for a moment to see if Purple had come back.  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Perfect chance to mingle with the common folk," Red told himself happily. "Or at least to get some time away from Pur."  
  
He started off towards the cafeterias, but changed his mind and headed to the Central Weapons Smith instead. The weapons were only made for presentations now; long ago were they outdated in favor of laser cannons and such. A shame, really. Most of the old weapons were only wielded by the most skillful of Irkans. He himself was trained in a few of the techniques.  
  
The forge was dimly lit and somewhat smoky; the master smith was at work. Red followed the sounds of the hammer on the blade, and nearly ran into someone in the gloom.  
  
"What the-Oh my--my Tallest. Forgive me; I did not see you."  
  
Red peered through the haze, realizing somewhat belatedly that for once he didn't have to crane his neck at a ridiculous angle to see the speaker. A slender gloved hand waved away the smoke, and Red was able to see that the person who he had bumped into was actually about his height. She was clad in the garb of a Specialist, one who practiced a Forgotten Art.  
  
Quickly she averted her eyes in dutiful respect. "My Tallest Red, what may I do for you?"  
  
"Um, no, it's okay; I bumped into you. At ease."  
  
She relaxed. "If I may, Sir, what brings you to the forges? Is there something I can assist you with?"  
  
Red grinned. She was no cowering Invader, the way she addressed him. It was quite a change, however welcome.  
  
"No, I was just looking around. I haven't been here for years. I used to be in here every week, commissioning an upgrade on my Ketungre." The weapon he named was a four-bladed axe that was wielded with one hand; deadly when thrown. "What brings you here, Specialist--?"  
  
She blushed at the question. "Chaz, Sir. Specialist Chaz. My Darontu broke during practice; I fell on it after a rather nasty stumble."  
  
Red nodded appreciatively at the mention of the difficult Darontu. Such was it made that many Irkans had lost limbs and lives in the training. The two blades on either side of the handle curved so that it could be throw straight or so it would come back; the danger lay in catching it without succumbing to the blades.  
  
Fal, the MasterSmith, appeared in the smoke. In his hand he carried a Darontu, presumably Chaz's.  
  
"Here ya go, Chaz. The handle was saved; only the blade was chipped."  
  
She accepted the blades gently, almost lovingly. "How much do I owe you, Master Fal?"  
  
He shook his head indignantly. "I thought we agreed that as long as you came only to me for repairs, you would pay nothing? The joy lies in working with such a wonderful Darontu, not wasting the monies spent on it."  
  
Only then did he notice Tallest Red hovering in the shadows behind Chaz. The Smith's face broke into a wide grin.  
  
"Tallest Red! How long it has been since I've seen you! It's been too long."  
  
Red smiled fondly as he remembered his frequent trips to the forge as a young Marauder.  
  
"Yes, it has been a while now, hasn't it? Are there still many young Irkans seeking the knowledge of the Forgotten Arts?"  
  
The Smith shook his head sadly. "Unfortunately, no, Sir. Now every child wants to be an Invader. Chaz is the first student in twenty years. She makes up for it, though, in her skill. I think now she could best you in a match with the Ketungre, by now." He smiled warmly.  
  
Red regarded Chaz with a critical eye. "You certainly aren't weak," he noted, seeing the muscles bunched beneath the sleeveless shirt. "I think I'm willing to take that bet, Fal."  
  
Chaz snapped her head up, and again Red noticed that she was practically eye level with him. "I can't fight my Tallest, Sir!" she said, clearly upset at the notion. "I--I'm not even that good!"  
  
"Nonsense." Red waved one hand loftily. "If Fal thinks you to be ready, I expect you in the Combat Training Center in precisely four hours. Dou you have a Ketungre of your own?" he asked, eyeing her Darontu.  
  
She nodded. "Yes sir."  
  
"Then calm down! It'll be fun! And you can brag about it to your friends!"  
  
"Sir, in following with tradition, Specialists are raised alone, to provide independence. I have only Fal as a friend." The word didn't quite seem to fit on her tongue.  
  
"Oh yeah...." Red thought back to his childhood. For him, the Forgotten Arts had been a hobby, not a profession, so he was raised in the Marauder Academy. "Well, you will. Let me walk you to your quarters, to make sure you don't jump ship on me." He smiled jokingly.  
  
Chaz just nodded mutely.  
  
As they left the dark interior of the forge, Red was able to get a better idea of Chaz's appearance. Surprisingly enough, he measured her at approximately half an inch shorter than he was. Her dark red eyes shone with an internal fire, and seemed to turn black when she noticed him looking at her.  
  
"My Tallest, I implore you to let me forgo this fight. I really don't want to hurt you."  
  
Red chuckled. "To hurt me you have to get past me, Chaz. And my name is Red. It makes a lot more sense to call me by my name than to keep up with this 'Tallest' nonsense. Um, where are you quarters any way?"  
  
Chaz pulled out an electronic pad and circled a spot with one claw. "Right over here. Two floors down from your quarters, and fifty feet or so to the left."  
  
Red whistled. "Whoo. How do you know that sort of thing?"  
  
Chaz smiled, a beautiful thing. "I lived my whole life on this ship. There isn't much else for me to do, other than practice...practicing to spend my life as a relic of an age that's been and gone...." her voice sounded sad and bitter, and Red let her mull over her thoughts until they came to her quarters.  
  
"Then I guess I'll be seeing you in a few hours, then?" she said, suddenly cheerful. "Don't forget your Ketungre." And briskly she stepped into her rooms and shut the door.  
  
Red leaned against the wall and sighed. He really couldn't wait for the fight; or even to see Chaz again. Pur, on the other hand.... Red sighed again, this time is regret. Purple would probably have his hide stapled to the wall as soon as he walked in. Oh well.... 


	2. Collision of the Blades

Collision of the Blades  
  
You people are sad and pathetic if you think I own Invader Zim. I probably could have created him, but let's face it; I didn't. Sue me not, I implore you...unless, of course, you want Chaz and her Darontu after your sorry human rear. If you think I own any of these characters, you need a therapist more than I do. Cuz I don't. Own them, I mean; I'm not sure on the whole therapy thing. And it would bode well for you to remember that.  
  
  
  
Chaz paced her room, muttering to herself and following a well-worn path in the floor. Just her luck; first she had broken Diante's Darontu, and then she was to fight the tallest Red! If I don't kill him, he's probably going to make me look like an ass, she thought numbly. Never mind that she was likely a descendant of the great fighter Diante; she just wasn't good enough for this kind of competition right now!  
  
With a start Chaz realized that she was going to be late to the arena unless she hurried. Quickly she tied on her duel garb, a wraparound leather tunic dyed with ancient Irkan characters, and pulled on the supple boots necessary for light-footed combat. She grabbed her worn Ketungre and dashed out the door, frantically calling for Kex, her SIR. The bot landed beside her and relived her master of the heavy Ketungre.  
  
"C'mon, Kex, we have to be across the Massive in four minutes!"  
  
Four and a half frantic minutes later, Chaz arrived out of breath at the arena. There was a huge crowd swarming around the exits, and for a moment Chaz wondered why so many people had turned up.  
  
"Oh, duh."  
  
Kex roughly shoved trough the crowd, using the Ketungre as some sort of cattle-catcher. She pulled Chaz along at a fast pace, giving Chaz very little time to see the people she was going to humiliate herself in front of. Most regarded her skeptically, a few with open admiration. Some just stared at her in awe.  
  
Finally Kex broke through to the center of the dueling grounds. With a sigh of relief Chaz noticed that Tallest Red was not yet there. She straightened her tunic and pulled out her Ketungre to clean it.  
  
Suddenly a roar of applause and cheers went up, and Chaz spun around to find Tallest Red and Purple entering the room. Red was clad in his Marauder armor; i.e., too much for wielding the Ketungre. Tallest Purple held a BrainFreezy and looked angry and worried.  
  
Red stepped into the center of the duel grounds. He held up his arms for silence.  
  
A hush fell over the spectators.  
  
"I organized this duel today because I met someone trained in the Forgotten Arts, and thought it would be fun. This is Weapons Specialist Chaz; I am, of course, your Almighty Tallest Red."  
  
Another cheer.  
  
"Now, let the duel begin!" Red pulled out his Ketungre, old and worn like Chaz's, but also well cared for, also like Chaz's. He stepped forward in the traditional touch of blades, which Chaz mirrored gracefully.  
  
Suddenly he lunged, twirling the blades like a baton. Chaz effortlessly blocked it as she felt herself slipping into the darkness of her fight- mind. She countered with a downward sweep of her own blade, catching Red unawares and forcing him to stumble back.  
  
Instantaneously she sensed his temporary weakness and advanced on him, blade swinging furiously in a glittering barrage of mithril. He blocked and defended, backed up until he was against the wall.  
  
Suddenly his training kicked in and her darted to her right, effectively stepping out of her range.  
  
She growled and saw him behind her, ready for the final strike.  
  
No.  
  
Chaz jumped up and kicked out, her booted foot connecting firmly with the wall, and sending her flipping over Red's head. He turned around, hampered by his heavy armor, tangling his feet in the boot Chaz had placed conveniently in his way. He fell, and he fell hard.  
  
Red looked up and saw the blade of Chaz's Ketungre aimed at his throat. Her dark ruby eyes were practically black, and held no mercy. He gulped.  
  
Inside her head, Chaz struggled to hold back her fight-mind, forced it away before it gained control. Slowly her black eyes became lighter, until hints of red began to show, and finally she stood up, drawing her blade away from her Tallest's face. She handed it carefully to Kex, and turned back to Red, lying on the floor. Smiling gently, she offered a hand to him, to help him up. Red grinned and accepted it. Purple ran out to his companion, fussing about how stupid a fight like this was. He glanced at Chaz, and did a double take at her height.  
  
He frowned. "Why weren't you selected as something more suitable to your height?"  
  
She bowed her head. "Sir, I chose to be in this profession. It sets me apart, and holds a certain...appeal...to me. I have been trained at the Invader Academy, as well as further training as an assassin. I have also been trained in the Arts of the Darontu, the Ketungre--"  
  
"As we've seen," remarked Red.  
  
Chaz blushed. "I also have proficiencies in the Aractis, and the Forlun."  
  
Purple whistled appreciatively. "Wow. Those are quite impressive accomplishments."  
  
Red nodded. "Perhaps you would be willing to show off your skills in a private concert, of sorts? I always get a kick out of watching a skilled Specialist do her stuff."  
  
Purple gave him a weird look.  
  
Chaz nodded shyly. "Certainly, my Tallest." She disappeared into the throng of people waiting to congratulate her.  
  
Red stared after her with a spacey look on his face. Purple leaned in front of him and waved.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Pur sighed, and smacked his co-Tallest upside the head.  
  
"Ahh! What, pray tell, was that gross assault for?" Red yelled indignantly. He smoothed his crinkled antenna with a sour expression on his face.  
  
Pur sighed and led him out of the arena. "Do you listen to yourself when you speak? 'I always get a kick out of watching a skilled Specialist do her stuff?' That was pathetic!"  
  
Red gazed at the ceiling. "That was kinda funny, I guess.... But you know what? I TOLD you I didn't need all that armor! You just don't fight in any old armor!"  
  
Purple waggled a long finger at him. "Don't go changing the subject, Red! Besides, you got beat fair and square! You should practice more! But--Oh wait!" he clasped his claws together sarcastically.  
  
"We have a meeting to attend! I guess you don't get to practice today!"  
  
Red glowered at Purple. "You don't have to rub it in," he mumbled.  
  
"Yes I do."  
  
They left the Training Center still bickering. From the crowds, Chaz watched them depart, and felt a slow stirring in her heart. Not since she had received Diante's Blessing, marking her as a graduated Specialist, had she felt something like this. It was a tingly feeling, like she has bubbles in her.  
  
She pushed the feeling away. Softening of the heart merely led to destruction of the soul. This she was taught.  
  
Still.... She arrived at her quarters.  
  
Chaz sighed and flopped down in her cot, little more than a large pile of pillows in a convex bubble window. These were the quarters reserved for people like her, and the added rank of her height didn't hurt, either.  
  
She snuggled into the burrow of softness. Mmm...this is the softness I need, she thought contentedly. None of this love nonsense.  
  
Still....  
  
Outside, the panorama of stars winked at her. 


	3. Food for Thought

Food for Thought  
  
Pah, I own none of Jhonen's creations. Go find yourself a comic book and educate yourself. JTHM, of Squee, perhaps.  
  
P.S. I don't own those either.  
  
  
  
"Chaz! Chaz, wake up!"  
  
The sleeping Specialist struck out with a disgruntled fist, which connected solidly with her friend Belil's face. The Invader growled softly and yanked on Chaz's antenna, effectively waking her with a 'squee!'  
  
"Belil! What are you doing here?" Chaz messaged her head. "And I thought we discussed that yanking thing...."  
  
The orange-eyed girl grinned. "Yeah, well, you deserved it. You didn't tell me you got to whoop the Tallest Red in combat!"  
  
Chaz, distractedly examining a small scratch, snapped to attention. The memories of the previous day came flooding back to her, and she groaned. "Then it wasn't a nightmare...."  
  
Belil grinned. "Nope. The whole Massive is talking about how you nearly took off his head! Gaww, I can't believe I missed it...I just returned yesterday, you see."  
  
"So I take it the invasion was a success? Can you help me find my boots?"  
  
Belil held up the worn brown boots of a Chaz's. "So, what exactly is this private exhibition I've heard about?" She glanced slyly out of the corner of her eye as Chaz twitched.  
  
"I...had...completely forgotten about that!" Chaz squeaked, her face gone minty pale. "Ooh...I can't believe it...I am in SO much trouble...."  
  
Belil heaved her friend to her feet. "C'mon, I'm positively starving! Three months in a Voot on the way back here, all I want to do now is get some good Irkan food in me! Let's go; you can tell me about your fight in the Mess Hall."  
  
"I...but...." Chaz pulled helplessly at her friend's strong grasp. "I don't really want to go to the Mess Hall!"  
  
Belil gave her long-time friend an icy look, one that said, essentially, 'Do I care?'  
  
Chaz sighed and pulled on her gloves.  
  
------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Hey, it's the Specialist that floored Red!"  
  
"No, she's too tall for that."  
  
"It's Chaz!"  
  
Chaz glanced around uneasily as her shorter friend pulled her through the halls. Normally she wouldn't even be on this part of the ship; she ate at a higher-ranking Mess Hall. Belil, however, insisted on eating in this Hall, although she was only four or five inches shorter than Chaz. Both of them stood torso higher above all other Irkans in the Hall.  
  
Chaz picked at a bag of chips while Belil ate from a mound of popcorn. "So," she said, from between mouthfuls of corn, "Tell me; how exactly did you happen to run into the Tallest Red anyway?"  
  
Chaz fidgeted in her seat. "Actually, he ran into me. I was at the forges, getting my Darontu repaired, and someone bumped into me." She laughed at the sight of Belil choking on her food and continued, feeling a little better. "It turns out it was Tallest Red! He talked with Master Fal for a few minutes, and then he noticed my Darontu. Apparently, he was pretty good with the Forgotten Weapons, and still kind of is...except for his stupid armor..... Fal told him that I was pretty good, which I'm not, I'm horrible- -"  
  
Belil spit out her drink, drenching Chaz with grape soda. "You're not horrible, you're great! Jeez, apart from being the only successful female Specialist in over forty years, you've become the best random Weapons Master in over ...I don't know, since Diante's time!"  
  
Chaz glowered at her blushing friend, and continued as she mopped up the soda.  
  
"Anyway," she said, throwing the napkin at Belil, "Red decided that he wanted to see just how good I really was, so he made me meet him in the Combat Arena later. Just my luck, a huge crowd had turned out--"  
  
"I'm not surprised," muttered Belil sarcastically.  
  
Chaz glared at Belil. "Do you, or do you not want to hear this story?"  
  
The Invader giggled and grabbed another soda from a passing shorty. "Sorry, sorry, go on."  
  
"Anyway, what I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted--what do you vultures want?!" The last part was directed at a crowd of short Irkans, most with trays of food, who were paused near them, listening. At the annoyed outburst from the infamous weapons-lady, all of them scuttled away hurriedly.  
  
Chaz turned back to Belil, only to find the latter collapsed on the table and laughing her antenna off.  
  
"What is so funny, by the Mother of the Tallest?!" Chaz demanded hotly. It was bad enough she was forced into a fight with the Tallest; now her best friend was weak with laughter directed at her! "Tell me what is so funny, you two foot excuse for an Invader?" Here she inserted some choice swear words, none of which I'll repeat. "By the Tallest Red and Purple, if you don't tell me right now, I'll--" A hush settled over the surrounding crowd. Chaz didn't notice until Belil sat up, wiped her eyes, and immediately bowed her head in submission. "My Tallest."  
  
Chaz growled at her friend. "Don't you 'My Tallest' me! That's not funny! It wasn't my--"  
  
"Ahem."  
  
"--fault?" Chaz turned around and very nearly fainted. Standing directly behind her, with a bemused expression on his face, was the Almighty Tallest Red.  
  
"My--my Tallest?!" Chaz gasped. She fought to regain control of her heart, which was incidentally trying to leap out of her ribcage and into her throat. "What--what are you doing here?! This is not where you would normally eat, sir!"  
  
Red grinned and shook his head playfully. "Where on Irk did you learn that language, Chaz? It certainly wasn't in the Specialist Academy!"  
  
"I--um--ehhh...." The colors swam before her, and Chaz fainted.  
  
Red stood still, looking down at the slumped form of the young lady draped fairly elegantly over his arm.  
  
"Ummm...."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------  
  
"Where in the world did you find that, Red?"  
  
Purple glared at his co-Tallest, sitting on a couch next to the unconscious form of Chaz. She was sprawled unceremoniously across the cushions, with her head on Red's lap. He was holding a cold-pak on her forehead.  
  
Red shrugged and popped a chip into his mouth. "She hit her head when she fainted. Not quite the type you'd expect to faint, even if she was caught swearing in front of her Tallest."  
  
Pur burst out laughing. "That is funny! What did she say?"  
  
"I think they were talking about our duel, and the other one was laughing at her. Chaz came out with some pretty impressive phrases. Something about, 'You pathetic excuse for a two foot Invader (expletive deleted),' yada yada..."  
  
Pur arched an eyebrow appreciatively. "Well. That is impressive."  
  
Chaz stirred. "Belil...?" Her eyes scrunched up and flickered open. The first thing she was conscious of was the rich color of the ceiling, then the comforting coolness of the cold-pak, and finally the fact that her Tallest Red was holding it there, and, more importantly, the fact that she was laying on his lap.  
  
"Gaak! What am I doing here?!" She shot out of the couch.  
  
Red hid a grin. "Well, you fainted in the mess hall, and it wouldn't have been very nice of me to leave you there, and the floor was really dirty, so..."  
  
Purple groaned and shook his head. 


	4. Very Short, Very Awkward

Very Short, Very Awkward  
  
No, I don't own Invader Zim.  
  
Chaz sat nervously on the edge of the maroon couch, one fist grasping a BrainFreezy and the other leaving scratches in the upholstery. //I can really think of other things I'd rather be doing now, // she thought to herself. //And sitting in Red's private quarters and telling jokes isn't one of those things. //  
  
"And then, his SIR falls onto his head and he crumples, in horrible, gut wrenching pain!! An he's still trying to tell us what his latest failure is supposed to do!! Something about a change in the weather pattern...anyway, it was great."  
  
"He sounds, eh, interesting," Chaz offered nervously.  
  
"It's almost scary, the amount of damage he wrecks, and then doesn't even die or anything...."  
  
Purple sucked thoughtfully on his Icy Ham freezy. ((A/N: It's actually a flavor!)) "Too bad..."  
  
Chaz snapped alert. "What do you mean, sir?" she asked carefully.  
  
"Red waved one claw dismissively. "Call us by our names. He means that it's too bad Zim doesn't just go and get himself blown up; he's a useless soldier."  
  
Purple cocked an eye at Chaz speculatively. "Weren't you on ship when we packed him off? It was only a little while ago."  
  
Chaz bowed her head. "No, my Tallest, I was undergoing a crucial part of my training, and was not in contact with the outside world."  
  
"But it was all over the Massive!" protested Pur.  
  
"Yeah," interrupted Red, "But most Specialists have to do a sort of...thing...for their training. It's like a virtual reality quest, of sorts, to hone their fighting skills. They spend days wandering around whatever ship they're on, only they think they're on a different world. It's a crime to interfere with them while they're in that state."  
  
Chaz regarded her Tallest with interest. "How is it you have come to know so much about the Specialists, without actually being one, sir?"  
  
Red poked at a basket of curly fries. "Red. Call me Red. Fal wanted me to become a Specialist. He has rank with the Control Brain, and beside, Masters are permitted to make suggestions for placement. He was thrilled when we became the Tallest, be he had high hopes for me as a Weapons Master." There was a bit of an awkward silence as Red poked at his fries, and Chaz fidgeted in her chair.  
  
Suddenly the Red sat up straight in his seat. "Hey! Why don't you give us that presentation now?" He looked hopefully at Chaz, who seemed to be having a heart attack.  
  
"Now, si--Red? But I'd need to get my things; I have to get my Darontu, and the whole ceremonial outfit, and--and--and a V.T.S. helmet!"  
  
Red leaned over to the walls console and pressed a button. "Fet, get me the head of the Specialist Equipment, Weapons." He turned back to Chaz and flashed a grin. "And you can send your SIR for the rest!"  
  
Chaz's antennae lowered in defeat. Damn, she thought miserably. Damn damn damn. Numbly she called to Kex on her I.U.P.  
  
"Kex, get the garb and the Darontu and bring them to Tallest Red's quarters. Out." She turned and glared at Red, who conveniently didn't notice.  
  
"You'll want to warm up, I'm sure," he said, standing up and stretching. He hovered over to a small desk and pulled out a slim card, and handed it to Chaz. "This is the key to a dressing room. Just come out when you're done, and we'll get this train wreck moving!"  
  
Chaz considered locking herself in.  
  
  
  
Hey! Not bad for a sleep-deprived Irkan suffering from the effects of a booby-trapped sun! Chapter Three, whoop-dee-dee, ready to move on to the inevitable oblivion of sleep...wait, that doesn't rhyme with 'three' and 'dee.' La di frickin' da. I don't like poem fics that much anyways. Whatever. Please review!! ^_^ 


	5. Virtual Assassination

Chaz paced frantically in front of the wall-length mirror in the dressing room. A tiny trickle of blood welled up on her lip where she had bitten it in her anxiety.  
  
"Okay, deep breath. Just a demonstration. It won't hurt. Ah, who am I kidding?! I can't do this!!"  
  
Kex sat quietly in the corner, watching her mistress pace and rant.  
  
Chaz straightened up and closed her eyes. "Okay. I'm going to get it over with. So what if it's the Tallest? Fet was much more critical of my moves.." She opened her eyes again and slipped the helmet over her head. Kex jumped up and handed her the Darontu, beaming.  
  
Chaz straightened the stiff tunic and opened the door of the dressing room. Red and Purple were leaning on a counter discussing something. Chaz cleared her throat nervously.  
  
Red looked over, and his jaw dropped. Pur poked him in the side of the head and he remembered the few manners her had, and shut his mouth. "You look.nice. Um.how much room do you need?"  
  
Chaz shrugged, already slipping into the aloof exterior of her fight-mind. She was calm, collected, and aware of her surroundings. The visor of the helmet was, at the moment, clear glass, but at the push of a button it would fill with carefully simulated opponents to fight. The whole simulation was designed to look graceful to an observer, while providing training for the one wearing the helmet.  
  
Red and Pur sat down in their respective chairs, scuffling for a second over who got the bag of popcorn. Red blinked and scowled at Pur as the latter flicked a grease-covered kernel at his eye. "Go ahead," he said to Chaz. "Whenever you're ready."  
  
She nodded and made the customary bow to her Tallest, then turned on the V.T.S. helmet. To her, a dozen faceless opponents wielding Darontues swarmed her. To Red and Pur, she began what seemed to be an impossible combination of spins, counter-attacks, and thrusts that defied imagination. Even Red, who was trained in the Arts himself, had not managed to succeed in this particular maneuver. He recognized it to be one of the drills taught to trainees even before the helmets became a factor in the Arts. It was designed to be an honorable fight against more than one opponent, and so included an excess amount of movement. Several times she came so close to Red, he wanted to reach out and smooth the tense muscles under the tunic, until the blade whirled around and nearly took his hand off. He kept his hands to himself after that.  
  
Pur noticed the spaced-out look on his Co-Tallest's face and flicked another kernel of popcorn at him, suppressing a smirk. Red glared at him and flung the half-empty bottle of Irk Brandtm FizzJoosh at him. Pur ducked the bottle and squealed as the Darontu swished half a foot in front of his face.  
  
Meanwhile, in Virtual Reality, Chaz had nearly finished off the last of her opponents. Three left.she could afford to do it the fancy way, and toy with them. One of them came at her from the left, swinging the deadly four blades at her in a figure eight. She jammed a corner of her own weapon into the heart of his maneuver, jamming it while giving her a chance to swing the rest of the blade around to eliminate the enemy. The other two came at her from either side, one going high, the other low.  
  
She jabbed out with her heel and caught the lower person in the throat, sending him reeling back. The other jumped high and made to kick her in the face, but she whipped her Darontu up and sliced cleanly through his leg. A splash of warmth ran down her arm.  
  
Chaz frowned. This was a little TOO real for virtual reality. She took a deep breath and pulled off the helmet.  
  
The first thing she saw was Red and Purple huddled on the couch, looking as pasty as cafeteria food. Red was sitting perfectly still as he stared at the floor at Chaz's feet. She looked down.  
  
On the floor was an Irkan dressed all in black, with a laser pistol in one hand. He had a bleeding bruise at the base of his neck. Chaz went whiter than star fire and looked at the assassin's leg.  
  
It was severed at the knee, with the Darontu laying next to it.  
  
Chaz fainted again.  
Sorry about the ending..I'm not sure what's going to happen next! Please review! 


End file.
